Death's Mantle: A Dark Fantasy GameLit Novel

by Harmon Cooper

  The angel flew into the air, sweeping up and over to Lucian. It was a male angel, muscled, with bulky golden shoulder pads and a matching helmet.

  “I would suggest moving on,” Lucian said as he aimed his weapon at the man.

  “You are no threat to me,” the angel said in a deep voice.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Lucian squeezed the trigger, his tractor beam hitting the angel before he could even lift off the rooftop.

  He swiped the angel into the rooftop on the left, and lifted it again, swinging it to the other side, leaving a small crater, brick and debris kicking up in the air.

  A golden energy took Lucian off his feet, sending his weapon to the side.

  The armored angel tackled him before he could get back to his feet, the man’s wings whipping to his sides, the two of them twisting into the air.

  He slammed Lucian into an adjacent building, and grabbed him again before Lucian’s cape could reach the angel.

  Twisting down toward the street below, the angel dragged Lucian head-on through incoming traffic.

  And even as he took the damage, even as he felt his bones breaking, Lucian knew that a part of this wasn’t real, that their action was playing out on a different plane of existence.

  With this in mind, Lucian punched his fist into the ground, digging his claws into the asphalt, which threw the male angel off balance.

  He rolled out of the way just in time to avoid a golden burst of energy, the angel flaring up again as Lucian ran along the sidewalk.

  His cape attacked the angel, slicing at it with Lucian’s scythe. His crows did the same, cutting in and out of the angel’s body.

  Given a moment to catch his breath, Lucian went for his lava sword, which he flourished as he took to the air. The angel barely managed to block his attack with his golden gauntlet.

  Letting out a terrible cry, the angel tore Lucian’s cape to shreds, emitting an oscillating blast of golden power that sent Lucian, what was left of his cape, and his crows careening for a brick wall.

  The breath knocked out of him, Lucian went for his plasma blowtorch and pulled the lever back, tearing into the man with a concentrated beam of thermal energy.

  As he was blown backward into the air, the angel conjured a golden spear, his armor thickening around his shoulders.

  The spear pegged Lucian to the ground.

  The angel landed, his golden mask peeling back to reveal a man with bronze skin and dark black hair. Lucian recognized him from the Albuquerque Hospice Center where Old Death was taken.

  “I was wondering when I would come across you,” the angel growled.

  One of Lucian’s crows came at the man and he caught it, squeezing it and destroying the spherical creation.

  He tossed it to the ground before returning his focus to Lucian.

  “Things don’t have to be this way,” Lucian told him.

  “Didn’t you say something similar back in Albuquerque?” the man asked, twisting the spear in even more, Lucian wincing.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Hashul.”

  “Goodbye, Hashul.” Lucian wrapped both hands around the spear. A bolt of electricity quickly reached the angel and blasted him backward.

  Still pinned to the ground, Lucian went with his gun that fired an electric trip wire, which he used to bring the angel to the ground, hoping to keep Hashul engaged until he unpinned himself from the spear.

  Lucian’s black cape twisted around the spear and tugged up, not able to actually pull it out, the fabric straining with each pull, desperately trying to help Lucian.

  With a loud grunt, Lucian used all his might to pull the spear up, the weapon’s barbs cutting along the way.

  He got the spear out and dropped it to the side, immediately placing his hand over his wound.

  Hashul continued trying to break free of the tripwire, his wings sizzling every time he tried to lift himself back into the air.

  It was only a second later that Lucian’s cape settled on his shoulders.

  He spun in the air toward the angel and scrambled on top of Hashul, pressing the muzzle of his Glock to the angel’s forehead.

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Hashul said, baring his teeth. “You don’t know what kind of war you would start if you did.”

  Lucian brought his hand around the angel’s neck, his claws started to dig in.

  “Next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

  Lucian fired a shot just a few inches above Hashul’s head. The angel twitched, and as he did Lucian released his hold on Hashul’s neck, quickly pressing his pinky and thumb together and disappearing.

  Fighting angels wasn’t going to get him Soul Points, and it was too late in the game to get distracted.

  Chapter Twenty-Five: OD

  Lucian’s form took shape in his brother’s backyard. He still had his Glock in his hand, just in case the angel named Hashul had figured out some way to follow him.

  Thunder caught his attention. Lucian looked up, expecting a portal to open.

  As he stood waiting for whatever was to come, the crow that Hashul had destroyed took shape.

  “I wasn’t going to let him do anything to you,” he told his creation which quickly joined its counterpart, both of them zipping around the backyard like dogs chasing one other.

  “We’re supposed to be serious here,” he reminded them, still on edge.

  But they had the right idea.

  While it was starting to rain outside, there really wasn’t any immediate threat.

  Once he was sure that he was in the clear, Lucian’s gun disappeared, each crow settling over one of his shoulders as he made his way into his brother’s home.

  There was no one there aside from Tuck the cat, who looked up at Lucian, hissed, and ran to the other room.

  “Of all things that can see me here…” Lucian said, not finishing his statement. He knew that his brother had lost his job, and Samantha wasn’t here…

  “Mom’s house,” he said, tapping his pinky and thumb together.

  He appeared outside her driveway. Connor had parked a little crooked, one of the wheels partially in the grass.

  Floating through the front door, Lucian found his brother at the kitchen table talking to their mother.

  “…I just can’t believe it,” his mother said. “He seemed like such a deadbeat, and here Frannie tells me he joined the National Guard. He’s been deployed to California to help with the wildfires!”

  “I never thought he was deadbeat,” Connor said, “I just thought he was sort of out there.”

  “That’s what I’m saying, Connor, honey, he was different. After graduation, he moved up to Vermont for a while doing a bunch of odd jobs. You know how they are up there. Jack of all trades and masters of none, anything to survive. I think for a while he was even working at a government office up there, some immigration thing.”

  “In Vermont? Who’s immigrating to Vermont, Ma?”

  Lucian’s mother laughed. “Federal government office, sweetie. They deal with the immigration paperwork, at least that’s what Frannie told me. But who knew he was actually in the National Guard there in California,” she said, showing Connor her phone. “So brave.”

  “I’m glad we don’t get fires like that here,” he said.

  “It’s so dry out there,” she said, bringing her coffee to her lips. “I’m glad too.” She took a sip from it and smacked her lips. “It’s a little lukewarm, but still good,” she said, mostly to herself.

  “Well, Ma…”

  “I know, I know, you need to get going,” she told him. “Don’t worry about Jennifer, she’ll be happy here today.”

  “Yep, and Sam will be around to pick her up a little bit later.”

  “She’s a really good mother, you know that.”

  “Who, Sam?” Connor grinned. “She’s all right.”

  “You need to treat her right.”

  “Come on, Ma,” Connor said, rubbing the back of his head.
“You know I do my best.”

  “Sometimes you gotta do better than your best,” she said sternly.

  “Hey, what’s this about?”

  “It’s not about anything, it’s just your dear old mother here is sensing something.”

  “We have both been stressed with our jobs,” Connor said, looking away from her.

  “No, it’s something else.” Lucian’s mother licked her lips and looked at Connor carefully for a moment. Her eyes started to well up.

  “What is it now, Ma?”

  “I’m sorry, Connor, honey, sometimes you just look so much like Lucian, and both of you look like your father. Same dark hair, light eyes, a stubborn look on your cute little faces.” She laughed through her tears.

  “Stubborn?”

  “You two both took your father’s genes, not mine,” she said, touching her white and blonde hair. “Nope, you two always had that dark hair, especially you. The first thing I saw when the nurse handed you to me was that brown cowlick of yours.”

  “It’s still sort of there,” Connor said, bringing his hand to his forehead.

  “Stop acting like you’re going bald. You’re not. You’ve just got a bit of a receding hairline. Your father had it too, and it never went much further back than where it is right now. So nothing to worry about.”

  “We’ll see,” Connor said with a chuckle.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll quit holding you up. You sure you don’t want some casserole? I made some the other day. Still plenty left.”

  “I’m fine, but I’ll take you up on the offer next time.”

  She smiled. “You better, because I’m running out of room in the fridge! Good luck out there, and I’m serious, do something nice for Samantha. She deserves it. Maybe drop off Jennifer here for the night and take Sam on a date. Get a hotel somewhere, somewhere a little to the south where it’s warmer.”

  “We can’t afford a hotel right now; we have a wedding coming up.”

  “I know that, but your old mom here can afford a hotel. Where do you want to go?”

  “I haven’t really thought about it…”

  “Somewhere within driving distance. You know, I had a friend who worked in Stamford, Connecticut. Maybe you two could go down there for a couple of days. Not too long, just a day or two, but then you can take the train into New York if you’d like, do a little shopping on Fifth Avenue, and then come back to Stamford.”

  “Why would I go to Stamford, Ma? Why would anyone go to Stamford?”

  She laughed at the look on her son’s face. “I don’t know, it’s just something to do. Be thinking about it, and I’ll be thinking about it as well. You and Sam deserve it.”

  Eventually, Lucian’s brother left their mother’s home.

  Lucian followed him out, saying goodbye to his mom over his shoulder even though she couldn’t hear him.

  Of course, she couldn’t.

  Lucian glided through the front of his brother’s truck and stopped at the passenger seat, turning around, sitting in his own special way.

  Once Connor started the truck, he looked at his phone and quickly sent a message to someone, tapping on the steering wheel as he waited for a response. He rolled his head on his shoulders, wincing and letting out a deep sigh.

  His phone buzzed and he looked at the message, cursing under his breath as he backed out of the driveway.

  Connor took the long way to the highway, past Beverly High School and a couple of chain restaurants. Once he reached the Yankee Division Highway, he did the loop around, slamming on the gas pedal and quickly moving to the fast lane.

  He flicked on the local rock station, his eyes darting across the road as he got behind a Toyota Supra with a New Jersey license plate.

  The driver started to slow down.

  Connor honked his horn and yelled for him to get out of the way.

  The driver slowed even more, and Connor was forced to hit the brakes.

  He swerved around the driver, flipping him off as he drove past.

  “Piece of shit drivers from Jersey,” he said as he drove by an SUV with New Hampshire plates.

  “Chill,” Lucian said, knowing full well that his brother couldn’t hear him.

  His brother almost got into an accident while pulling off the highway, narrowly swerving around an elderly woman driving a compact gray Kia.

  He came to a stoplight and took a left toward the Northshore Mall, straight to the same rundown apartment complex that he’d visited the other day. A young guy was standing out front this time, his hands in his pockets, a cigarette in his mouth.

  Connor didn’t make eye contact with the youth as he found a parking spot. He checked his wallet again to make sure he had enough cash on him. He separated some of the cash by stuffing some in his front pocket, keeping the rest in his wallet.

  Lucian followed Connor through the same door that he’d visited the other day, finding the man with the shaved head that had been here last time.

  Name: Kenny Emerson

  Date of Birth: 07/02/1986

  Date of Death: 04/16/2037

  A guy in a tank top sat on the couch, his hair greasy, a dazed look in his eyes.

  “Where’s Tim?” Connor asked.

  “I told you, he got sick.” Kenny took a seat at the dining room table and motioned Connor over. “I think it’s bronchitis. He had to go see the doctor and shit. Get some x-rays.”

  Lucian noticed the man on the couch twitch, and as he turned, Lucian could see the parasite on his back, the same kind his brother had, clear with yellow running through it.

  Name: Brad Kabler

  Date of Birth: 02/28/1989

  Date of Death: 10/07/2041

  “But I got what you need.” Kenny placed his gun on the table and motioned for Connor to sit in front of him. “How was that shit last time?”

  “Strong, but good. Went way faster than I thought it would.”

  Kenny laughed, his laugh reminding Lucian of a horse choking on an apple. Even though he knew his brother was doing this, that it was his brother’s choice to be here, Lucian still felt hatred in his heart for Kenny, for enabling Connor.

  “I got something else for you to try, if you’re down. Some people don’t like those blue pills, so they get these instead. But these are real strong; you’ll need to chill if you take it.”

  “You're giving me a sample?” Connor asked.

  Kenny nodded. “That’s right. Look, I know that Tim did things his way, but I do things my way. I care about my customers. And I want you to at least get a taste of what you’re buying before you walk out of here like you did last time.”

  “Okay,” Connor said as Kenny took a single gel pill out of a small metal container.

  “The stuff is cut with Dsuvia. Heard of it?”

  Connor shook his head.

  “Look it up sometime, but it’s stronger than that shit you got last time. Believe me there. Just take a little,” Kenny said as he dabbed a small amount of the powder onto a piece of glass. “You got something to snort it with?”

  Connor went for one of the bills in his pocket, rolling it up until it was a thin tube.

  He bent over and snorted the powder up, his eyes going wide.

  “Good, right?” Kenny asked.

  Lucian’s hands trembled as he watched Connor lick his lips, his brother glancing left and right, his eyes bloodshot as he looked around.

  His breaths grew shorter and shorter.

  “Whoa, chill,” Kenny started to say.

  Connor fell.

  He hit the ground and rolled onto his back, salivating, his throat quivering.

  Lucian dropped beside his brother and tried to help him up, but his hand slipped through him.

  “Connor!” Lucian cried, willing his power forward, hoping that he would be able to wake his brother.

  Kenny’s form pressed through Lucian, and Lucian immediately stepped back, wondering what he was doing.

  What Lucian saw next made his blood run cold.

  Conn
or’s date of death started to pulse, to fade away…

  “No!” Lucian cried as Kenny jammed something up Connor’s nose, squeezing it. Connor’s eyes came open as he gasped for air.

  The guy sitting on the couch didn’t even glance over to see all this was happening. He merely stared at the wall, a dazed look on his face.

  “Are you okay?” Kenny said as Connor started to sit up, his date of death solidifying, still listed as the sixth of June, 2021.

  “What the hell? What the fuck!?” Connor asked, gasping.

  “It’s a reaction,” Kenny said, wide-eyed as he attended to Connor. “You’re cool, you’re back. You just OD’d.”

  Lucian hovered over his brother, watching as Kenny helped him sit on the couch.

  “You stupid motherfucker,” Lucian whispered, his fists clenched at his sides.

  He wanted to slug his brother; he wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, to pull him out of his own body so Connor could see the people he was hanging out with versus those he was hurting.

  He also felt incredibly sorry for him.

  Connor hadn’t always been the best brother, but he had always protected Lucian when they were young, and he’d never minded if Lucian tagged along, even as they grew into their teenage years.

  He was never the brightest guy, but Connor was always hard-working and loyal to his family, which was at odds with how he was currently behaving.

  Connor had changed.

  The thing that had changed him was the pain, followed by an addiction to painkillers.

  And as Lucian floated over his brother, still wishing he could do something, anything that would beat some sense into him, this thought swam in circles at the back of Lucian’s mind—Connor had been and still was in pain.

  His pain had persisted.

  The pills he had initially been given by the doctor had helped with the pain, but they had also hooked him, and once his prescriptions were no longer able to be filled, he went looking elsewhere to kill the pain.

  How many people in Lucian’s vicinity had started off in the same boat as Connor?